


Sweet Surrender

by AKMars



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, S&M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 20:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKMars/pseuds/AKMars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has needs....even Harold Finch.  See notes inside.  Explicit M/M sexual encounters, consensual bondage, sub/dom ahead.  You have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Surrender

Title: Sweet Surrender  
Chapter I: Needful Things  
Rating: M (for sexual situations, consensual bondage, S/M, M/M encounters)  
Pairing: Finch/Fusco

NOTES: I’m really not sure where this one came from, although when I went in to give the plot-bunnies breakfast this morning, I found a big, muscular rabbit wearing a studded leather harness intimidating some of the others. He says his name is Günter and he informed me that he’s going to be around for awhile....... 

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

_present:_

Fr. Michael Salvas, OFM, Cap. was safe. The gang leaders who went after the monk for assisting those among their ranks that wanted out... who dreamed of a better life; had been dealt with (one permanently, the other two gift-wrapped for their detective friends).

The priest had blessed John Reese for his timely intervention and said a prayer for both the op and ‘the voice in his ear’. Unlike many in his profession, the Franciscan friar knew that God needed earthly assistance from time to time and not always of the non-violent sort. Finch had found himself grudgingly impressed with the tough old man.

Now that the danger was past, Reese had taken himself off to unwind in whatever his chosen fashion was. Finch was left on his own again...achingly tired in his bones and yet still keyed up from the intensity of dealing with their most recent number. He pulled off his glasses, rubbing the fingers of his free hand over his eyes. 

Donning his spectacles again, the billionaire turned from the bank of computers and his gaze fell upon a small framed photograph sitting almost hidden in the shadows. With clumsy, uneven steps he crossed the room and grasped its frame, tracing the outline of the kind face that stared up at him. His heart contracted and a sad smile crossed his lips as Finch realized what the date was.

_Happy Birthday Nathan....._

Harold didn’t remember setting the photo down, gathering up his coat or leaving the library. Almost as if on auto-pilot his feet took him in the direction of what he wanted...needed right now.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

_For the better part of three decades, Finch and Ingram had been a force to be reckoned with. Nathan’s social adeptness and ability to network had parlayed his friend’s technological genius into a successful and profitable software engineering corporation._

_Ingram was more than just a front man, however. Nathan had a keen intellect and worked closely with his partner in the development of many programs. Add in the fact that they were partners in life as well as business and Finch had found the other half of his soul. The one person whom he could fully be himself with....on all levels._

_The loss of Nathan had devastated Harold. The physical fallout of his injuries aside...Ingram’s death had cut out his heart. Finch had shut down emotionally so much that he’d no longer recognized himself. Even finding and hiring John Reese hadn’t done much to heal that wound._

_Reese could (and often did) complain as much as he liked about the recluse’s privacy issues. Finch’s ability to trust hadn’t been merely compromised, it had been obliterated; by forces on a higher level and long before the op had come into the picture._

_Their work on the irrelevants list had re-connected Finch to the world somewhat, but it wasn’t until their first failure that Harold found a glimmer of promise. Forced out of his refuge to deal with Reese going off the grid while shadowing a number, Finch had come face to face with Detective Fusco._

_At their second encounter, following the fiasco of saving the history teacher who turned out to be the mafia don ‘Elias’, Finch’s casual offering of a handkerchief to the injured cop had raised Lionel's ire and he challenged the billionaire with a hard stare._

_"You believe me now?!" Fusco spat blood onto the pier._

_Harold felt a jolt along his nerves that he hadn't since...._

_"I'm sorry detective."_

_Reese’s ire with Harold only compounded the feeling and when the detective had snapped at him again, his gaze caught Finch’s and something clicked. He saw a glimmer of recognition in Lionel’s eyes but it was suppressed at once. When both of them left the recluse standing alone on the dock...Harold’s insides writhed in frustration. As difficult as it was to believe, Lionel Fusco was a dom._

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

 

And how indeed could Harold have _not_ picked up on it? He was, after all, the ultimate dom himself. Always ten steps ahead of whomever he was dealing with.....always with back-up plans on top of contingencies ready to be put into play... _always prepared for anything._

 

_Growing up a skinny, short adolescent with sub-par eyesight and a brilliant mind made learning to manipulate people a survival mechanism. Judicious application of positive and negative reinforcements; of reward and punishment...a careful balance between carrot and stick, until the desired results were achieved. Harold became a master puppeteer out of necessity._

_He had for a brief time in college been a dom in the typical sense at MIT; with several subs, male and female. Finch found almost no pleasure in it...truth be told, holding the bodies and minds of his 'group' literally in his hands had felt too much like work. It wasn't enjoyable for him or satisfying. Yet he'd never even entertained the thought of alternatives until his best friend had suggested it._

_Harold trusted Nathan with his life, so when the undergraduate raised the possibility of being his friend's dom, the older student agreed with a minimum of reluctance. It was because he had such absolute trust in Ingram that Finch was able to give up control. Nathan's boyishly good looks and athletic build influenced him as well._

_That first session made Finch feel as if he'd been reborn. For a brief span of time Harold found he was able to let someone else call all the shots. It was more than just pleasurable, it was therapeutic._

 

A real dom knew instinctively how trust, on both sides, was paramount to the relationship. Fusco understood this; Finch had never needed to explain. The detective had just looked into the billionaire’s eyes and _knew_. 

What made Lionel such a good dom was that he, without exception, played by the rules. What happened between them when Finch sought the detective out stayed behind the closed doors of his apartment. _As it should._ Dilettantes didn't understand this...the ones that pretended to it; the posers, just into the shock novelty of the thing. 

Their ‘sessions’ never bled over into any other situations. When Reese was working Fusco, or the detective was in contact with Finch; Lionel was the same put upon, harassed, low-ranking cop as always. The recluse was _safe_....in a way that he could never be with anyone else. _Not even John._

Although thoughts of being topped by his handsome and assertive operative were enough to set the older man's heart racing, Finch couldn't bring himself to broach the subject. There were many things he'd come to trust Reese with but such direct control of the billionaire's personal self wasn't one of them. It was not that he thought John would hurt him...Harold knew in his bones that the ex-agent would never cause him harm. It was the op's casually teasing manner. He wasn't sure that Reese would be able to keep their 'playtime' separate from their working relationship...even in jest... _and that simply would not do._

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**


End file.
